Multiple Personality Disorder
by Karmahitme66543
Summary: I guess this is about 'Colin Gray' looking over his life in his final moments. Includes: minor mentions of abuse, self mutilation, drug abuse, cancer, swearing, character death.
1. Introduction

**A/N: **Hey, people! Emma here. I am a _huge_ fan of Kyle Gallner, and I wanted to contribute a little bit of love to him. I just wanted to do a little story to tie his characters in Jennifer's Body, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and The Haunting in Connecticut together. I know it doesn't really fit the time skips and such of the movies. Somethings won't fit together perfectly, because of ages and stuff, but hey, I tried. R&R, because nice comments get cookies and a shout-out, and flames are used to burn Freddy Krueger!

* * *

Why, WHY does this always happen to me?

"No way…"

Couldn't a guy get some, oh, I don't know… _Normality_ in this life?

I'm about to be ripped to shreds by a hot demon chick, and I'm thinking about normality. I _am_ a loser…

Wait; let me start at the beginning.

My birth name is Quentin Smith, although I also go by Colin Gray and Matt Campbell. To put it nicely, I am a rather… fucked up kid. I have nearly the equivalent of Multiple Personality Disorder (not to be confused with Schizophrenia), ADHD, insomnia, and I am in recovery from cancer. Fun, right?

I have dealt with all sorts of paranormal things; ghosts, a dream-infesting monster, extremely possessed houses… You know what I'm talking about. Not one of those is pleasant to deal with, either. Plus, the one time I encounter a demon, she tears me limb from limb and eats me. My life sucks.

Great, here's the pain to follow the ripped limbs. God damn that hurts!

'**Your brain still works for nearly seven minutes after your heart stops beating.'**


	2. Jumping rope

**A/N****: **Yeah, these chapters aren't going to be that long. My thought trains don't last too long without veering off in another direction. Hope you enjoy! Remember kids, reviewers get cookies and shout-outs! Flames are used to burn Freddy Krueger.

Edit: Also, I'm going through and cringing at how bad my grammar was when I wrote this, so I'm updating it a bit.

* * *

I was born in Illinois in 1992. Birth name: Quentin Smith.

My dad, Alan Smith, was a really great father. He was just _a little_ overprotective.

When I was in Kindergarten, there was this gardener, Fred Krueger. All the kids teased him because he worked at the school and lived in the basement.

I remember the girls had some kind of chant about him that they skipped rope to.

_One, two, Freddy's coming for you…_

Freddy seemed nice enough at first, but then he started abusing us, both physically and mentally.

_Three, four, lock your door…_

All the parents in town started to get really concerned when we came home with cuts across our backs, with stories of Freddy taking us into a cave, and so on.

_Five, six, grab your crucifix…_

At one point, all of the adults who had a kid in my class chased Freddy into this… warehouse or something. They didn't want us five-year-olds to have to testify in court. When they got to the warehouse, Freddy locked himself inside, away from everyone else. My father was the one who threw the jug of gasoline into the warehouse. The entire place burned down, giving Freddy a fourth degree burn and killing him.

_Seven, eight, gonna stay up late…_

They told the town that Freddy had high-tailed it out of there. As far as everyone was concerned, Fred Krueger never even existed. Us kids pushed the memories of what he did to the backs of our subconscious minds and soon after 'forgot' about it.

_Nine, ten, never sleep again._

What doesn't exist can't hurt you, right?

**Wrong.**


	3. Antigonish

**A/N: **Hey, it's me again. I forgot disclaimers! I don't Kyle Gallner, 'Jennifer's body', 'A Nightmare on Elm Street', Freddy Krueger, the state of Illinois (I think that was the state), or anything else I mentioned.

This chapter: The italicized poem is called "Antigonish**"** and it is by Hughes Mearns. I don't own 'The Haunting in Connecticut', leukemia, or anything else that may or may not be copyrighted. Reviewers get cookies and shout-outs, flames are for marshmallows. We've been over this, no?

Serious spoilers for 'Haunting in Connecticut' for this chapter. Oh, by the way, I lied. This chapter is REALLY LONG for what I normally do.

Edit: Thanks to tennessee-nut for telling me to get off my ass and get back on the story. I just might end up doing that for her.

* * *

When I was six years old, my parents moved us to the East Coast. Dad became an alcoholic while my mom found a loophole that allowed us to legally change our names. I became Matt, and we became the Campbell family. During that time, our cousins, Wendy, Mary, and Billy came to live with us, too.

When I was thirteen years old, I came down with a major case of leukemia. Well, it more developed and infested itself. Saying 'I came down with it' makes it sound like just a pathetic cold. I promise it was nothing of the sort, and it just got progressively got worse and worse as I got older. Dad quit drinking, 'just for Mattie'. Aren't I just _so lucky?_

When I was fifteen, my parents found out about a new treatment for the cancer. The only catch to it was, if I started hallucinating, I'd be dropped from the trial. Sounded simple enough, am I right?

So we started the treatment. One night, when Mom was driving me home from the hospital, I got seriously sick. You know the deal; puke your guts out, hack up a lung, etc. We didn't get home until four in the morning or something, due to how many times she had to stop the car for me.

In order to make it to the hospital without driving a million and a half miles for every appointment – it was only a two and a half hour drive or something, but still - Mom decided to buy a new house. She went house shopping, if you could call it that, one time while I was being 'treated'. Apparently, she came to a nearby house where some guy was hammering a **For Sale** sign into the ground.

And I quote, "I'll give you the first month free if I don't have to finish pounding this thing into the ground," Unquote.

She liked the place; the house had a nice kitchen and lots of room for our huge family. Without permission from dad, or me, or anyone else for that matter, she bought it from the guy. She came to pick me up, set on her decision for the new house, so she drove me, and we spent the night there. Whomever it was she bought the house from had left us some mats and sleeping bags there, so it was no big deal.

That night, I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought I hear something. I brushed it off and went to the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, got a glass of water, etc., to calm myself down and convince my psyche that I had just been dreaming. Just when I was about to go back to bed, I heard the noise that woke me up again. I followed the sound down to the basement. On first glance, I noticed one section of the room was walled off by tinted glass doors. I went over to them to check my reflection, wondering if I looked just as insane as I felt, and this… This thing appeared out of nowhere.

I did what any 'normal' person would do, pretended it was a dream and went back to bed.

_Yesterday, upon the stair,_  
_I met a man who wasn't there_  
_He wasn't there again today_  
_I wish, I wish he'd go away..._

Mom told everyone about the new house and after an argument (or what she called a 'heated discussion') with dad, they agreed to move there.

I got first pick for the rooms, due to me being my parents' actual kid, and I was the first one there. I still think Mom was pretty surprised when I chose the basement instead of one of the upstairs rooms. I have my reasons though. It's huge and it has its own bathroom. I figured I couldn't disturb the rest of the family when I wasn't feeling… too hot.

The only weird thing was that room behind the glass doors. They wouldn't open, so no one knew what was in the room. At one point, when I was helping Dad move furniture into the house, he tried to open the doors into the sealed off room, and declared that it was probably a storage room of some sort.

Another night came and I dreamt that this man was cutting into corpses. Almost looked like he was inscribing something into their flesh. It felt like I was watching from somebody else's point of view, standing in a room I'd never been in.

I woke up, and I must have tried to open the glass doors. All I remember was recoiling from it when the doorknob burnt my hand. Doesn't mean I told anyone in the family. Hallucinations stopped the treatment, remember?

_When I came home last night at three_  
_The man was waiting there for me_  
_But when I looked around the hall_  
_I couldn't see him there at all!_  
_Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!_  
_Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... (slam!)_

Some afternoon after we'd been in the house for a while (I use that term loosely, of course. It was probably a week since Mom bought it), I was helping Mom by setting the table.

I know I grabbed a stack of plates, set them on the table, and turned to grab the silverware. When I turned back around to the table, the plates weren't there. I was surprised, but after a few seconds of searching, I spotted them up on the shelves again. A simple question to Mom about moving the plates was responded to with the claim she hadn't. A loud crash rang out behind me, and the plates were on the ground near the table. Mom was concerned; I guess because she didn't want me hallucinating and then have to stop my treatment.

I kind of blew up and yelled about how I just must have placed the dishes too close to the edge. I don't think she believed me, but at least she didn't say anything.

After a tiring session of treatments a few days later, Mom was helping me from the car to my room. When we got to the porch, she realized that she forgot her purse in the car, and so she ran back to get it. When I leaned on a pillar to try to steady myself, I'll admit that I was more than I little shocked when my hand splintered through the wood. It pushed into a whole bunch of rotting meat, worms, bugs, stuff like that. I turned to Mom to freak out about it, but when she started over to me, the wall was fixed, with no traces of what I had seen.

_Last night I saw upon the stair_  
_A little man who wasn't there_  
_He wasn't there again today_  
_Oh, how I wish he'd go away_

That night, I had the dream with the old man engraving words on bodies again. I woke up, but I didn't open my eyes. I walked over to the sealed room, and easily opened those glass doors. Instead of exploring, I turned around and went back to bed.

**Cancer does some weird shit to your brain, man.**


End file.
